Start Of A Beautiful Friendship
by Sadlady
Summary: Three meetings, one outcome


START OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP

"Oi, budge up a bit mate, make room for a small one."

Doyle pushed his way into the small gap behind an exhibition panel. There was a kid already there, obviously bent on avoiding the school trip as well.

"Awright, 'ang on a mo," the other boy shuffled along the floor, making tracks in the dust with his bum.

"Fuckin' school trip," snarled Doyle. "Last thing I wanted to be doin' today. Liverpool Docks. Not the most interestin' place is it?" He looked across at his new found companion.

The lad was taller and chunkier than the skinny Derby school boy. He was hugging a knapsack close to his chest, and nodding in agreement. Doyle swiftly appraised the young boy

"Hm You're not from Wentworth High or I'd know you, or at least place yer face."

Doyle's school was one of the new comprehensives and had nearly 1000 pupils on its roll.

The other boy spoke briefly.

"Birkenhead College mate. Jus' down the road. Hardly worth gettin' the coach 'ere. Glad I did though," he muttered under his breath.

Another group of visitors tramped through the Education Centre, Both boys hunkered down, trying to make themselves even smaller.

"Rather be outside than stuck 'ere,"said Doyle morosely. "Not plannin' on bein' a docker or shipbuilder anyhow."

The other boy nodded.

"Me neither. Not sure what I'll do, but it ain't gonna be round 'ere, that's for sure."

Doyle smiled to himself. It was quite dark behind the screen and he had yet to get a good look at his 'partner in crime'.

"How old are you mate," asked Doyle.

"Fifteen, nearly sixteen," came the reply. "You?"

"Sixteen."

The room seemed quieter and both boys sneaked a quick look around the screen. There were a few people around looking at exhibits, but no school groups. Together they slid out and got their first proper look at each other.

The taller boy saw a feisty, curly headed young man, school tie at half mast and his shirt undone at the top. Fine dark hair was visible through the open buttons, a promise of the hard masculinity to come. The large, green eyes softened the expression caused by a scowling, downturned mouth.

"I'm Ray," said Doyle, pulling a packet of sandwiches out of his school bag.

"Will," said the other, hungrily eyeing up the food.

Doyle proffered the pack, took his first good look at Will.

The boy was tall and broad shouldered, although still at the gawky stage all teenage boys experience. His hair was dark and slightly curling at the back, worn a little longer than was fashionable. He was pale skinned, as though he didn't get out into the sunshine very often.

However, it was his face that caused Ray to gasp.

He was sporting a huge, ugly black eye, purpling and half closed. The other eye was the bluest Doyle had ever seen. Even bluer than his personal wet dream, Susie Matthews, thought Doyle to himself.

"Cor, where the fuck did you get that?" he asked.

Will shrugged his shoulders.

"It's nowt," he replied. "Not the first, maybe not the last. He helped himself to a sandwich, and crammed it into his mouth. As he reached out, Doyle caught sight of another large bruise on Will's forearm.

He pushed the rest of the sandwiches towards the boy. He was certain this lad hadn't eaten for a while, if the speed with which he ate the food was any indication. Anyway, Ray wasn't keen on liver sausage. He passed across a packet of custard cream biscuits and some crisps as well.

"Been in the wars?" Ray asked conversationally.

Doyle had earned a few bruises himself recently. His small stature seemed to invite some of the bigger lads at school to take him on. They soon learned that Ray Doyle fought dirty, and didn't much care if he got hurt in the process. It was rumoured that he'd taken to carrying a knife. No one had told on him yet, knowing that if Doyle found out who it was, there was much worse in store for the snitch.

Will stared hard at the smaller boy. There wasn't much to see. Tousle headed, with strange green eyes. Skinny body, but with an air of toughness about him. Someone you'd think twice about crossing or annoying. Seemed friendly though, and he smiled a lot.

"I er, fell over," he said quickly. Doyle didn't believe him for a moment.

"Yeah, sure you did," he replied.

They sat in a companionable silence, mentally sizing each other up. Ray didn't feel he had anything to prove to this boy, that they would rub along nicely if given the opportunity.

Will sat comfortably alongside. The skinny youngster next to him seemed almost protective of him, and despite his untidy appearance, and tough talk, Will felt he could trust Ray.

Will reached down and began to rummage through his knapsack. Doyle glanced around the room and then caught sight of Will's back, uncovered where his shirt had parted company from his trousers. He whistled quietly.

The skin was a mass of scratches and welts. He had obviously been badly beaten at some point. Doyle was surprised the boy hadn't made more of his obvious discomfort.

Before he had time to say more, a booming voice rang out.

"Ah Raymond Doyle. I thought you might have found this trip less than interesting! Unfortunately, you will be required to write an essay on today's events so perhaps you should join us!" Mr Stead left Doyle in no doubt that he was in trouble.

He grabbed his bag.

"Nice meetin' yer Will. You'd better get back to your group as well, or we'll both be doin' detentions!"

Will smiled sadly.

"I ain't goin' back though. Had enough of bein' knocked about by me stepdad. I've got a mate on one of the boats. He's gonna slip me on board tonight an' I'm outta here. Even gonna change me name. Usin' me real dad's name from now on."

Doyle stared at the damaged kid.

"Good luck then . . . " he cocked an eye in question.

"Bodie," said the boy. "I'm callin' myself Bodie from now on."

The noise from the bar was ear-splitting. Laughter, singing, the clinking of glasses and a babble of conversation greeted visitors to the pub.

Bodie was sat in the midst of a group of soldiers. Off duty and out for a good time, before returning to barracks, they had arrived at a trendy pub in London's Kings Road. They were celebrating their acceptance into the SAS, and determined to drink as much as they could, and pull the prettiest girls available. So far the beer was flowing freely and the girls were certainly pretty and flirting shamelessly with the soldiers.

In the six years since he had left Liverpool, Bodie had crammed so much more into his young life than the lads he left behind. After a spell working as a deck hand, he'd jumped ship in Marseilles and started working in the seafront bars. Soon after, spellbound by tales of the exotic life they led; he'd joined a group of mercenaries and found himself in Africa.

He learned the hard way that fighting for money was not at all glamorous. Conditions were appalling; he lived in his clothes for weeks on end, ate whatever food he could find. Despite the hardship he faced, Bodie grew tall and broad shouldered. He learned how to use his strength to his own advantage. A quick learner, he listened to his colleagues and absorbed their knowledge like a sponge. He became an expert in munitions, martial arts and survival. However, the sheer effort of existing day in and day out in the war torn country, was exhausting.

Bodie never cared for the causes, only the money. He was a gun for hire, and that knowledge began to eat away at his self esteem and his conscience. Eventually, he moved into the townships, and for a while lived with, and off, a local woman. When she threw him out, he worked his way back to England by a number of nefarious means. Almost everything was fair game, gun running, smuggling booze or cigarettes, in fact anything that paid his way home was considered if the price was right. However, he did have morals, of a sort, and drew the line at smuggling drugs or people.

Once back on British soil, Bodie joined the regular army. He moved swiftly through the ranks and reached sergeant before applying to and being accepted by the SAS.

The cool blonde draped around him and slurred in his ear.

"Bodie, d'you really wanna stay here? It would be much nicer back at my place. I've got some champagne in the fridge, and my flat mate's away. We could go back there and . . ."

She was trying her hardest to be suggestive, but her smeared lipstick and bloodshot eyes spoke of too much alcohol already.

Bodie winked at his friends, many now worse for wear with drink.

"I'm off then lads. Can't stay here all night looking at you sorry lot try to pull! Me an' . . ." he realised he didn't even know the name of the woman he proposed to shag that night.

"Charlotte," she replied not at all concerned that he didn't know.

Together they staggered across the floor, Bodie half carrying the blonde. He skilfully avoided bumping into anyone and made his way towards the entrance.

"Bodie, I need a pee; wait for me 'ere lover, or I'll never find you in the crowd."

The blonde weaved her way across to the Ladies Room, while Bodie stood near the doors. He scanned the crowd and his eyes came to rest on a man sitting with a group of people. He looked awful. His right cheek was swollen and bruised. There was a row of stitches holding a large wound together, the skin beginning to heal although it still looked red and sore. His eye was half closed. The bruising extended down his face, taking in the corner of his mouth as well.

"I know 'im," Bodie thought with a start.

The man raised his head briefly, and Bodie looked into a very green eye. As the man gave a small smile to his companions, Bodie caught sight of a chipped front tooth. The group laughed at some comment, and Bodie watched the man wince with the effort of keeping a straight face. The girl next to him gave him his drink, a large glass of orange juice, complete with a straw.

"Come on Ray, have a sip. You can't have alcohol while you're on painkillers and antibiotics. It won't be for long. We'll get you home soon. Do you want me to stay tonight?"

Ray made some comment to the girl and she kissed him gently on his unblemished cheek.

"Ray Doyle! After what you've been through I would've thought that was the last thing on your mind! Oh well," she sighed and rolled her eyes theatrically, "if it helps you get better . . ."

Bodie watched the tenderness between them, and suddenly felt shabby and irritated that his partner for the night didn't even care that that he only wanted sex from her. He realised in a single bitter moment how empty his life was.

The moment passed almost immediately.

Ray wrapped his arm around the girl, and pulled her closer.

"I'm not a well man Laura. I need takin' 'ome. Someone to put me to bed and tuck me in!" Ray mustered his most suggestive smile given his injuries. The girl laughed affectionately, and gently ran her hand through his unruly hair. "You are a lovable rogue Raymond Doyle, and completely without shame."

Bodie watched the scene unfold, and made a snap decision. Pushing his way through the crowd, he walked up to the table and spoke to the man called Ray.

"'Ere mate. Don't I know you? "

Doyle stared at Bodie, and slowly shook his head. His injury gave his speech a slow and laid back quality.

"You do look familiar. Not sure where from though. Will innit? Or Bodie? Hang on! Weren't you the kid at the docks? 'The school trip. 'Bout six, seven, years ago."

Bodie nodded in assent.

Ray gestured towards a spare stool at the table.

"Small world eh? Fightin' for Queen and country then?" Doyle enunciated each word slowly. He was in pain from his injuries and it showed.

Bodie shook his head in assent.

"Just got in the SAS. What happened?" Bodie pointed to Doyle's face.

"SAS. Hard blokes they are. Well done." Doyle grimaced slightly and rubbed his chin.

"Er, I had a slight disagreement with a couple of blokes over some property that wasn't theirs. One of 'em took a dislike to my involvement and smacked me with a crowbar."

"That's what happens went you don't wait for your back up, Ray." Doyle's girlfriend looked at Bodie almost defiantly.

"He's a policeman. Works out of City Docks."

Bodie stared at the injured man thoughtfully.

"Ray? Yeah, I remember, Ray Doyle. Gave me your sandwiches." Bodie's face broke into a smile at the memory.

"A copper? Never would've thought that pal. You were a bit rough back then!"

Doyle attempted to smile.

"Got into a spot of bother a few years ago. Bit of a wakeup call really. Left Derby, and came down 'ere, joined the Met. Love it!"

Bodie stared closely at Ray's face.

"That looks nasty mate. Hope it was worth it."

Ray waved his hand dismissively.

"Got the fuckers! This looks a lot worse than it is. I had a bit of surgery on my cheekbone. Got a fake bone there now. Sorta adds to my rakish charm eh!"

Bodie chuckled at the man's comments while silently marvelling at his acceptance of the appalling injury.

They both took a sip of their drinks, while watching the scene around them. Bodie stood up.

"Gotta go."

"Not waiting for your girl?" asked Ray, noting that Bodie ignored the willowy blonde who had now found him and was now hanging on to his arm in an effort to remain upright.

Bodie gently pushed her away.

"No. I've suddenly lost my appetite for shagging someone who doesn't even care that I don't know her name. Sorry sweetheart," he said, turning towards the blonde, "go and clean yourself up and find your self respect."

The girl tried to focus on the tall soldier; tried to summon up enough dignity to walk away. Instead, she muttered a sullen "Fuck you," and staggered back to the table.

Bodie stuck out his hand towards Doyle, who proffered his own in return.

"Take care of yourself Doyle, and that lovely lady of yours See you another six years mate.

Cowley finished reading the file and pushed it across his desk. He smiled to himself and satisfied his instinct was right, pressed the button on the intercom.

"Betty. Find Bodie and bring him to my office please. Also, some more tea would be nice."

He pushed his chair back and closed his eyes.

Shortly after, Betty knocked and pushed open the door.

"Two cups of tea, and one surly young man," she said, firmly pushing Bodie through the door.

Bodie gave his boss no time to speak.

"Sir, I don't need partner. I've always worked alone, and you know my results are good. Why spoil it with by bringing in a partner?"

"Sit down Bodie, and drink your tea. Och laddie, you need to take stock of the situation. The job we do . . . the men we deal with . . . sometimes we can work alone. But a team . . . a good team, aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses is like gold dust." Cowley took a sip of the tea. "It's my belief Bodie, that providing you with a partner who compliments you will create an almost perfect fighting team."

Cowley picked up the file again, and flipped it open.

"This man fits the bill perfectly. He's been with the police . . . has an excellent record, although he's made a few enemies lately. Uncovered corruption within the ranks and then testified against his colleagues. It's not made him popular, but he's stuck it out. Constant night shifts, no back up arriving when called for . . . "

Cowley scanned the file, picking out salient facts and throwing them at Bodie like so many verbal darts.

". . . excellent shot with a handgun . . . studied martial arts . . . very good at undercover work . . ."

He shut the folder with a snap. The desk phone buzzed and Cowley snatched the receiver.

"Thank you Betty. Ask him to wait for a moment please."

He carried on his conversation with his employee.

"He's going to be your new partner Bodie, whether or not you like it. I've met him several times, and had his background checked extensively. I had my doubts to start with . . . he has a temper, and there was an incident in his youth which caused me to review my judgment more than once. But he's turned things around and is one of the few men I consider to be incorruptible. You are another one!"

Cowley walked to the door and spoke briefly to Betty.

He moved back to the desk and produced a bottle of whisky and three glasses. Bodie, sitting with his back to the door, insolence and defiance barely hidden from his boss, only heard Betty talking to someone as she showed them in Cowley's office.

Cowley held out his hand to the newcomer.

"Please sit down. Bodie, this is Ray Doyle, your new partner."

Bodie stood up so fast the chair toppled over. He turned to face the visitor. As he caught sight of Doyle, a big grin swept across his face.

"Hello mate. 'S getting to be a regular thing this, isn't it?

Doyle broke into a huge grin, the mended cheekbone giving his looks a romantic, off kilter charm. They shook hands warmly.

"Bodie! What a surprise. How are things mate? You with this lot too? What happened to the SAS?"

Bodie studied the man he'd met nearly twelve years previously. He knew that Cowley had chosen wisely and they would work well together. He turned to speak to his boss.

"We met on a school trip sir. Both bunking off as it happens. Ray fed me liver sausage sandwiches. I hate liver sausage, but I was so hungry . . ." Bodie tailed off into reverie.

Cowley kept his expression neutral. The head of CI5 was seldom wrong footed, but he was completely taken aback that the men knew each other, let alone appeared to like each other. Although he didn't know it at the time, this would not be the first time these two young men would surprise him. He quickly regained control of the situation.

"I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on, however it will have to be done in your own time. I assume Doyle that you have decided to accept my offer employment with CI5?"

Doyle nodded happily.

"Yes sir. Definitely."

"And you have no objections, Bodie, to having a partner?"

The young man looked across at his boss.

"Not at all sir. Can't think why you would have thought any different," he added cheekily.

The older man stared hard at both men. As different as chalk from cheese on the surface, but sharing an ingrained sense of right and wrong, and the same deep sense of commitment to the ideals of Cowley himself, he knew this partnership would grow and strengthen over time.

"Either that," Cowley muttered, "or they'll kill each other!"

THE END


End file.
